


our bodies to the beat

by darkangel0410



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Public Sex, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: Matt’s not due to heat until early April, but he’s not surprised he’s falling head first into one now; last night was the first time he’d seen Brady in person in months and they had spent most of the night fucking, with short breaks in between for napping and eating, so it’s not completely unexpected that Matt would be in this condition.





	our bodies to the beat

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have to write the fic you want to see more of, so have some more Tkachuks a/b/o fic! It's marked mildly dub-con because it is heat fic, but it's nothing major imo. Enjoy!

Matt’s on the bench when he feels the first wave of heat endorphins hit his system; his eyes unfocus for a second, Brady’s scent calling to him, even from the other bench: pine trees and rosemary, a scent that makes him swallow hard, a whine caught in his throat at the knowledge that his alpha is so close to him.

He moves restlessly on the bench, trying to get comfortable even though he knows it’s useless to try right now. Matt’s not due to heat until early April, but he’s not surprised he’s falling head first into one now; last night was the first time he’d seen Brady in person in months and they had spent most of the night fucking, with short breaks in between for napping and eating, so it’s not completely unexpected that Matt would be in this condition. 

If anything, Matt’s shocked it didn’t happen when he woke up this morning to Brady fucking him, slow and possessive, pressing kisses to his face and throat, telling him how good he looked. His stomach tightens at the memory, slick leaking out of his hole and wetting his underarmor; it takes all his willpower to stay where he is instead of going over to Brady and demanding he knot him immediately.

Matt makes a face when Peters taps his shoulder to send him over the boards. He doesn’t want anyone else’s touch right now, not even something as casual as the coach letting him know it was his shift. 

He tries to focus on the game, lining up against Duchene when Benny gets tossed from the dots, but he feels sweat dripping down his back and matting his hair to his head under his helmet, knows his scent is starting to get overwhelmed with sticky-sweet of his heat, so it’s not a shock when Duchene sniffs the air and sways forward minutely, his eyes on Matt instead of the puck that was still in the ref’s hand. 

It only lasts a second before Duchene catches himself and flushes red in embarrassment; there’s loud growl from the Sens bench that makes Duchene startle and look over his shoulder before he skates backward a little bit, careful to not look Matt in the eyes again.

Matt would recognize that growl even if he couldn’t smell Brady’s scent spike in anger at the same time, but he doesn’t look over at him because if he does, nothing’s going to be able to stop him from jumping Brady and as much as he wants that, it’s going to have to wait until after this game’s over.

The ref finally gets Duchene to line back up, but it’s easy for Matt to win the draw, sliding the puck behind him so one of the guys can grab it, and shoves Duchene out of the way. He goes easily, obviously afraid of either upsetting Matt or setting Brady off on the bench and both those options piss Matt off; Matt can take care of himself and he hates when alphas treat him with kid gloves, like he’s some delicate flower that needs careful handling or he’s going to fall apart.

Matt’s temper isn’t easy at the best of times, never mind when his body is pulsing with need and every second that passes where he’s not being held down and knotted makes him more desperate and angry. “Hey, asshole, what’s your problem?” Matt says, skating as close to Duchene as he can manage without having the refs call him for something. 

“I’m not,” Duchene starts to tell him and seems to think better of it and just shakes his head; he skates back towards his own bench with his head down, no longer even pretending to be involved in the game at this point.

Matt starts after him, eager to beat the shit out of someone if he couldn’t fuck right now, but before Duchene even makes it there, Brady’s already over the boards and headed right for Matt, his stick and gloves left behind. Matt hears the ref blow the whistle, but it’s distant, unimportant with his alpha finally right in front of him and within touching distance; he knows there’s a reason why he was waiting until later for this, but he doesn’t care anymore: Brady is _here_ and reaching for him and that’s all that matters to Matt now.

“Mine,” Brady growls when he gets close enough to pull Matt up against him; he snarls in frustration when Matt’s helmet is in the way of him putting his hands in Matt’s hair and he rips it off of him a couple seconds later, his own helmet falling to the ice right after. “You’re _mine_.”

There’s a lot of shouting going on, but Matt can’t concentrate long enough to understand what it’s about or who’s doing the yelling because Brady’s kissing him roughly, hand fisted in Matt’s hair because he knows how much Matt loves having his hair pulled.

“Brady, please,” Matt begs when Brady pulls away to bite at his jaw; he makes sure it bruises and every sting on his skin from Brady’s teeth makes Matt wetter, need pulsing through his system, the ache of being empty more pronounced. “I need you, alpha, _please_.”

It’s almost a sob, the words running into each other and Brady growls again, possessive and demanding, and tightens his hand in Matt’s hair so Matt’s neck is bared, his bond-bite just visible under the collar of his jersey; Matt whines, low in his throat and needy, when Brady doesn’t do anything for a few seconds except stare at Matt’s neck, his pupils blown wide with lust.

Brady finally bares his teeth and bites down on Matt’s bond-bite, the sharp pleasure-pain of it hitting Matt like a ton of bricks; it’s sensitive to begin with, but with the heat hormones pumping through his system now, it buckles his knees, his mind clouding over and Brady’s hands on him are the only thing keeping him upright.

Matt’s not sure how they end up on the ice, he’s too busy trying to tear Brady’s jersey and underarmor off; he needs to touch Brady’s skin, needs to feel it against his own with a desperation that he usually tries to hide.

There’s still some yelling but it’s nothing more than background noise to Matt, something barely noticeable when Brady finally loses his temper and tears apart Matt’s pants and underarmor off of him; he snarls when what’s left of Matt’s uniform gets caught on his skates and he finally has to move away from Matt to get rid of them. 

Matt whines at the loss of Brady’s touch, the ice cold and jarring against his hot skin, and it feels like forever before Brady’s back on top of him. “Brady, I need you,” he begs, grabbing onto Brady’s shoulders as soon as he’s close enough.

Most of the time, Brady loves to tease him, making Matt come on his fingers two or three times before he’ll even think of fucking him, but this time he seems as eager as Matt. “Going to knot you so good,” Brady promises, using one hand to press Matt’s leg to his chest and he fucks into Matt in one smooth stroke.

It’s just the right side of too much, Brady’s cock is thick and hard inside him, and it makes Matt moan loudly, already wanting more.

“You look so good like this, baby,” Brady goes on, biting Matt’s neck while he’s fucking him; his thrusts are deep and rough, Brady giving him exactly what he needs. “You’re mine and now everyone knows it.”

Matt flushes at the reminder that they were surrounded by who knows how many, all of them watching Brady fuck him; it’s not something Matt ever thought of before but he can’t deny that he likes the idea of everyone seeing them together, knowing that they chose each other to belong to.

“You want my knot, baby?” Brady asks, fisting one hand in Matt’s hair and holding him still, just the way Matt liked; he moves Matt’s leg to wrap around his waist with his other hand, moving so they were pressed chest to chest, what’s left of their clothes scratching aginst each other.

“Yes, alpha, _please_ ,” Matt whines and bites at Brady’s jaw, wanting his own marks on his alpha for everyone to see; Brady shifts a little, just enough to get a little bit of leverage and his knot catches on Matt’s hole, already half-full and it makes Matt hiss in pleasure and dig his nails into Brady’s shoulders. “Now, Brady, please.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Brady croons as he wraps his hand around Matt’s dick and starts stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Going to keep knotting you until you’re nice and full. Make you fat with my cubs, I know that’s what you want, baby.”

It’s the words as much as Brady’s hand on his dick that makes Matt come, and it feels good, but there’s still something missing and Matt knows what it is: he needs Brady’s knot, needs to be _filled_ just like Brady promised.

He doesn’t have to wait long, it’s only a few seconds later that Brady growls, deep and possessive and bites Matt’s shoulder again, and Matt feels his knot pop, filling him up and stretching him until the ache if being empty settles and goes away until the next wave of his heat hits.

Brady nuzzles Matt’s throat, scents him a little before he presses a kiss to Matt’s jaw; he grins when Matt starts purring and his scent goes bright with happiness. “Go ahead and sleep, baby, I’ll keep you safe.”

Matt purrs loudly, tucks his face into Brady’s neck and lets his eyes close, content to let Brady figure out what they were going to do next.


End file.
